What I've Learned: Rick Rubin

Record producer, 43, Los Angeles

When you're a kid, you don't really know the difference between magic and spirituality.

At one time, science said the world was flat, and everybody believed it. The fact is, we don't know anything for sure.

Making art is a mystical process — a lot of people who are artists don't understand it themselves. Especially the young ones. They feel different, but they don't know what it is. They feel more. Everything hurts. Everything. They're supersensitive. They see things that other people don't see. It can be crippling. For someone like Kurt Cobain, it can kill you.

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What I've learned about beards is that people like to touch them; it's almost like you've got a dog with you.

My job is to look for balance. I have a theory: What seems in balance to us, whether aurally or visually, comes from a distant, primal memory of something in nature. When something rings true, it's because it harkens back to some truth in the universe. You just know it when it happens. With artists, you can see it happen. A band will be playing and something starts happening and everyone starts looking at each other in a certain way. It's by no means an exact science. It's just a feeling that is.

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If I were to make only rap records, or make only heavy-metal records, it would really get old fast. I would end up falling into patterns.

I was talking to Leonard Cohen, and he was saying it takes him typically three years to write a song. And he said that once he was having a conversation with Bob Dylan, comparing songs of each other's that they liked. And Bob said, "Well, how long did it take to write 'Hallelujah'?" And Leonard said, "Three years." And then he asked Bob, "How long did it take you to write 'I and I'?" And Bob said, "Fifteen minutes."

So much of my work is trying to be critical without being judgmental. I try to make criticisms in a very, very specific way. The more specific it is — if someone can really understand where you're coming from and what you're suggesting — the more it will actually help them.

With many artists, no one around them tells them the truth, so hearing the truth can be actually refreshing.

I don't know anything about music. My job has very little to do with music. It has more to do with taste and culture and balance.

It's not fun to be with people who are famous but not talented. The talent is the fun part.

I was with this group of friends. We were having dinner at Mr. Chow's in Beverly Hills. When we got there, you almost couldn't get in the door because there were so many paparazzi outside — so many that there were fire trucks out there, you know, trying to manage the crowd. We're sitting at dinner, and the red lights from the fire trucks are lighting up the whole restaurant. It felt like a scene from a war movie. It was insane. I was with these three other people. And we started trying to figure out who was creating this scene. We'd all been to Mr. Chow's a lot of times, but we'd never seen anything like this. It was about the time of the Coachella music festival. Madonna had played Coachella, so we're thinking, Maybe it's Madonna. I mean, she doesn't live here, so she's not around that much. Maybe it could be her causing so much attention. From there, we just kept throwing out names, trying to figure out who it could be. Finally, I got up from the table and I went to find out. And then I came back and I asked my friends, "Do you want me to tell you who it is, or do you want to try to guess?" And someone said, "Okay, let's play twenty questions." So the first question was, "Is this person famous for being a musical artist?" And I had to think about it. I didn't know how to answer that question. I think she's made music. She's made albums. But is she famous for that? I don't think so. So I decided the answer was no. And then someone asked, "Is this person famous for being a film star?" Hmm. I didn't know how to answer that question, either. Yes, she's been in films. But is that what she's famous for? I didn't think so, so I decided that answer was also no. And this went on for twenty questions. And the answers were all no. Everybody lost the game — no one could say who it was. Here we were in Mr. Chow's, and literally, it was like World War III had broken out. And when I really thought about it, this person causing it wasn't famous for anything that you could really put your finger on. It was an interesting comment on our society.*